


I love you, I love you not

by Laluna92



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, F/M, Jock Derek Hale, M/M, Nerd Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-05 10:49:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5372576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laluna92/pseuds/Laluna92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That was around the time Derek started treating Stiles like the scum at the bottom of his shoe and he replaced Jackson with the “best friend forever” title.<br/>I guess it’s one of those rare days where Derek acknowledges his existence. Great.<br/>“You think you can manage staying out of my way, princess?”<br/>Stiles takes in Derek’s cocky stance and he shoots him a glare, “Think you can manage to go fuck yourself?”<br/>Nerd/ Jock AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Best Friends Forever

“Everyone line up! Jackson, shirts! Derek, skins!” 

Stiles groans, kicking himself for not faking an illness to land himself in the nurse’s office. Sure it smelled like the nursing home that Stiles used to visit his grandma in and Greenberg was constantly occupying residency there for “flatulence issues”, which was just a nice way the nurse described Greenberg’s incessant farting whenever he experienced an ounce of anxiety. The poor guy got picked on more than Stiles and that was saying something. Yes, Stiles would rather subject himself to the smell of old people and farts if it got him out of P.E. 

Fourth period was his own personal hell and if it weren’t for the fact that his best friend Scott shared the class with him, he would die from the torture. It wasn’t just the fact that Stiles was as skilled at contact sports as he was at getting laid, but he also happened to share the period with all of the jocks on the school’s Lacrosse team. 

To put it simply, they were all assholes. 

Stiles knows how horrible the jocks are first hand, they only make his high school experience that much worse because he’s the school’s resident nerd. He’s pretty much guaranteed to be class valedictorian, though that might not be the case if Lydia has anything to say about it. They had been in competition with each other ever since they both tied for the highest test score on their final in first grade. He was met with her evil glare that was only glorified by her fiery, red hair. Ironically, he crushed on her for years but his reality check was handed to him on a silver platter when she started dating Jackson Whitmore. (Cue gagging here). 

He’s pushed into a line of sweaty teenage boys and he pointedly ignores Jackson and Derek who are calling out the names of the most athletic guys to join their teams. Stiles knows for a fact that he’s going to be one of the last guys picked; he’s been though this scenario many times before. 

Scott squeezes his way beside Stiles, inhaler in hand as he nervously bites his fingernails. Stiles makes a face, because gross and he lays his hand on Scott’s shoulder in reassurance. “Scott, calm down. You don’t want to trigger an asthma attack.”

Scott nods his head frantically and brings the inhaler to his mouth, breathing the medication into his lungs. “I can’t go through this again. Last time we played I got an elbow to the nose. The blood still hasn’t washed out of my uniform.”

Scott sweeps his hand dramatically towards the front of his shirt that reads Beacon Hills High. His shirt does indeed have remnants of his previous injury down the front of it as a reminder of Scott’s humiliation. Allison, the new girl Scott has been crushing on, had happened to be watching and Scott still got red when she passed him in the halls. Stiles had to hear about the horrific, tragedy as Scott had so reasonably called it and how Allison was never going to like him back. He went on and on about how his life was over and that he would die a virgin with twenty cats as his only companions for a month. A whole month. 

Stiles was not about to relive that month again. He had to figure out a way to get out of this mess. Maybe… “How about I fake an injury and you volunteer to take me to the nurse?”

Scott’s mood brightens for a moment before he scrunches his nose in disgust, “But doesn’t Greenberg spend this hour at the nurse?”

“Big picture, Scotty.”

Scott nods his head resigned and they fist bump to their brilliant plan. Before he knows it, there are only three people left in line including him. Jackson looks between all three of them with a scowl on his face, “Great. I get to choose between the fat one, the guy who can’t breathe and Bilinski who barely weighs a buck fifteen.”

Everyone snickers around them at his remark and Stiles resents that. He weighs one hundred and forty one pounds, thank you very much. Scott’s complexion has paled considerably and Stiles feels for his friend. 

“Whoever will I choose?” Jackson continues sarcastically which earns him even more chuckles, feeding his oversized ego. 

Stiles crosses his arms and wills the clock to move faster so that he doesn’t have to endure Jackson’s dumbass any longer.

“Hurry up, Whitmore! We don’t have all damn day!” The coach yells, spittle flying out of his mouth. 

Jackson’s face goes blank and he points towards Scott, “I guess I’ll go with the mouth breather.”

Scott hurriedly moves to stand in the crowd behind Jackson and frowns at Stiles. He knew he would be one of the last ones picked but he’s really hoping that karma will take pity on him and make it so Jackson gets kicked in the nuts. He laughs at the thought before he realizes everyone is staring at him like he’s crazy. 

“I’ll go with the scrawny nerd.” 

Stiles looks towards the direction the voice came from and realizes that Derek picked him over Andrew or as Jackson so generously named him, “The fat one.”

Stiles readies himself and reluctantly walks over to Derek’s side of the field. At this point Stiles would rather be on Jackson’s team because Derek makes Jackson seem like an angel in comparison. Derek is evil incarnate and when he’s not forcing Stiles into lockers and giving him swirlies, he’s ignoring Stiles’ existence all together. 

Stiles wouldn’t care so much if it weren’t for the fact that they used to be inseparable. They had been best friends their whole lives up until middle school when Derek grew into his looks and gave up video games in exchange for making out with the popular girls and participating in sports. That was around the time Derek started treating Stiles like the scum at the bottom of his shoe and he replaced Jackson with the “best friend forever” title. So the fact the Derek is calling him a scrawny nerd rather than by his name isn’t so shocking.

“Andrew, you can be the bench warmer this game!” Coach yells out before blowing the whistle loudly.

Are you kidding?! Why couldn’t Stiles have been blessed with the position of bench warmer? He raises his hand up high and shouts, “I volunteer as tribute! Andrew can take my spot.”

Coach proceeds to roll his eyes and blows the whistle even louder causing anyone within a twenty foot radius to cover their ears in pain. 

Stiles takes that as a no and grumbles under his breath resulting in Derek smirking at him. I guess it’s one of those rare days where Derek acknowledges his existence. Great.

“You think you can manage staying out of my way, princess?”

Stiles takes in Derek’s cocky stance and he shoots him a glare, “Think you can manage to go fuck yourself?”

His response only seems to amuse Derek so he puts as much distance between them as he can, choosing to stand over by the sidelines with Scott. Scott is looking frantically at the bleachers where Allison and Lydia are huddled throwing giggling smirks at the shirtless boys on the field. Jackson doesn’t seem too happy that Lydia’s attention isn’t focused solely on him so he goes to tackle an unsuspecting, shirtless pedestrian as a result. 

“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Allison is the sun…” Scott recites the line woefully and Stiles wonders if his friend is having a mental breakdown.

“Is there a reason you’re quoting Shakespeare or…?”

Scott turns to him and frowns, indignant. “Because Stiles, it’s romantic.”

Stiles resists the urge to roll his eyes dramatically at his friend’s temporary insanity. “You do realize they both die in the end, right?”

Scott gasps and shoves Stiles in the side roughly. “Dude, spoiler alert!”

“Oh I’m sorry! I didn’t realize four hundred and twenty years wasn’t enough time to reveal the ending.” 

Scott was a smart kid but man did he get stupid once Allison transferred to school. Scott opens his mouth to retort but Coach blows his whistle at them and yells, “McCall, Bilinski! Quit gossiping like a couple of girls and get your asses on to the field!”

They both begrudgingly go on opposite sides of the field and Stiles tries to avoid the tackling bodies in his general vicinity. 

He mostly succeeds until he spots Jackson in his periphery running towards him at an inhuman speed. Before he can will his body to move out of the way, Jackson body slams him down to the unforgiving, hard ground making him see stars. His body explodes with pain and he’s pretty sure he can taste blood in his mouth at the fall. Jackson gets up unscathed of course and offers a fake apology. The asshole obviously did it on purpose and Stiles thinks he may have broken a rib or two.

Coach hovers over him, analyzing the injuries he’s sustained. “Someone take Bilinski to the nurse.”

Stiles has long since given up on correcting the coach on the butchering of his name and looks towards Scott for assistance. Before Scott can volunteer Derek appears and stares down at him. “I’ll take him.”

No. Hell no. There’s no way he’s letting Derek anywhere near him. Not happening.

Before he can voice his qualms, the coach nods his agreement and yells at everyone to continue on with the game. Jackson gives Derek a confused look and frowns, “Why are you helping this dipshit?”

Derek gives him a hard look and proceeds to offer his hand to Stiles which he takes begrudgingly. “Because I want to. That a problem?”

Jackson sneers in Stiles’ direction while addressing Derek, “Just don’t let his nerdiness rub off on you.”

“Clever.” Stiles says in return and Derek smiles his way, ignoring Jackson. 

Derek brings Stiles’ left arm over his broad shoulders and takes on most of his weight. Stiles hesitates to lean on him and Derek closes the space between them. 

“I don’t bite. Well, much.” He winks at Stiles and now Stiles knows he probably got knocked unconscious because there’s no way that Derek of all people is being nice to him. Maybe Derek got abducted by aliens and their using his body as a human vessel, that’s the only explanation that makes sense.

Derek helps him walk off the field, albeit rather slowly since Stiles is limping and they make their way to the nurse’s office. There’s an uncomfortable silence between them and a couple of bystanders do double takes when they take in the sight of Derek Hale, captain of the lacrosse team, helping Stiles Stilinkski, captain of the nerds. 

An uncomfortable silence settles between them and Stiles feels the need to fill it with his voice and hesitantly asks, “Why are you being nice to me?”

Derek stops in front of the nurse’s office and considers him for a moment, letting his eyes roam over Stiles’ face. “Like I told Jackson before, because I want to.”

“That’s not really an answer.” 

Derek shrugs and opens the door pulling Stiles in alongside him. The nurse looks up at the sound of their entrance and her face brightens considerably when she sees Derek. “Well if it isn’t my favorite student coming to see me.”

Derek grins and turns up his charm, “Actually, I’m here because this kid got hurt.”

His nickname for Stiles makes him scoff. They’re the same freaking age.

The nurse, who is well into her forties with graying hair and a kind face, turns her attention towards Stiles and frowns. “What happened this time? Not another cramp in your leg?”

Stiles reddens because he was known for coming in for stupid so called injuries. He even came in once for a paper cut but it really did hurt and Jackson was being particularly unpleasant that day. He would do anything to get away from the presence of that douchebag.

Derek nods his head and glances sideways at Stiles, “No, he got tackled playing lacrosse.”

The nurse shoos him into a seat and he winces at the pain the simple movement brings. 

“I’ll get you some ice, dear. It’s probably just some bruising. Nothing a little rest can’t fix.” She leaves the two of them alone and Stiles takes the time to look around and notice that they’re the only two occupants. He feels eyes on him and turns to look at Derek who is watching him with an unreadable expression on his face. Stiles starts to feel insecure because Derek hasn’t looked at him like that since they were kids. He asks unsure, “What?”

Derek smiles closed lipped and brings his hand up to the side of Stiles’ face, making him reflexively flinch. Derek ignores his reaction and rubs his thumb gently across Stiles’ cheek before leaving it in place. “There. You had some dirt on your face.”

Stiles doesn’t know what to say to that and he curses the shiver that runs up his spine with the way that Derek is staring at him, softly like the past four years didn’t happen. Like how they were before. 

The nurse comes back, startling them and Derek drops his hand from Stiles’ face and clears his throat. He stands up and takes the ice pack from the nurse, handing it to Stiles. Stiles takes it and sighs contently at the relief the ice brings to his aching side.

He smiles sweetly at the nurse and announces that he’s needed back on the field. The nurse fawns over him and wishes him well before turning her attention to Greenberg who has his hands clutching his lower abdomen, face turned down in pain. Derek looks over at the poor guy and raises his eyebrows, “I’m going to take that as my cue to go now.”

Stiles winces because he really thought he would get away with avoiding Greenberg and his stomach problems for one day. Derek offers him a pity smile at the smell he undoubtedly is going to have to suffer through for a half hour until lunch time and by then he’s not going to have an appetite.

Derek goes to leave but not before nodding at Stiles, “I hope you feel better.” He sounds sincere and Stiles mumbles out a cautious thanks in reply. Derek leaves and Stiles is completely mind fucked at Derek’s complete personality change. Just yesterday he tripped Stiles in the hall making him land flat on his face. 

Greenberg takes the seat next to Stiles and lets out a grunt of pain. A sour smell fills Stiles’ nostrils and he doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he’s covering his entire face with his dirt stained shirt in order to avoid the smell.


	2. World's Greatest Mom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday tomorrow so I decided to post the next chapter today :) I hope you like it! I wrote it instead of studying for finals (oops)

Stiles gets out of the room as fast he’s physically able once the bell rings and he shoves through bodies of people to get in the lunch line next to Scott. Scott looks worried but when he spots Stiles he relaxes, lifts his arms in the air and dramatically shouts, “You’re alive!”

People turn to stare at his outburst but both boys ignore the onlookers, used to the weird looks they receive on the daily. 

Stiles grins at his performance, ruffling Scott’s long hair fondly. “You know, I should be mad that you betrayed me by letting Derek take me to my death.”

Scott raises an eyebrow and looks him over, “You look fine to me.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and pushes Scott to move forward in line, scoping out the options for lunch. They have pizza with fries that incredibly counts as a vegetable and something that resembles the present his cat left for him on his carpet the other morning. Stiles chooses option number one and grabs a carton of chocolate milk because he’s still five years old at heart.

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you had to wait in the nurse’s office with me and Greenberg.”

Scott looks horrified and nods his head sympathetically at Stiles. “You’re right. Nobody should have to go through that.”

“It’s really not fair. Girls get to use their period as an excuse to get out of P.E when they’re probably not even in that much pain.” Stiles remembers during swim season all of the girls “happened” to be on their period so they all got to sit around chatting while the boys had to swim twelve laps in the pool. 

Scott’s eyes widen in panic when someone clears their throat behind Stiles and he would know that aggressive voice anywhere. He winces before sighing in defeat, “Lydia is right behind me isn’t she?”

Scott nods fearfully and Stiles turns around to see Lydia with her arms crossed under her chest, accentuating her impressive boobs (Stiles is a teenage boy, he notices these things) and is rhythmically tapping her high heeled shoes in annoyance. Her face is screwed up tightly and she seems as though she’s trying to control her impending anger. Allison is by her side, watching the scenario with amusement.

“I’ll give you one chance to take back that ridiculous statement.” Her tone is calm but deadly and Stiles can hear the thinly veiled threat hidden in her words.

Not one to back down from a fight, especially with Lydia, Stiles lifts his chin in challenge and grins smugly. “I’m not going to take back a statement that is irrefutably correct.”

Lydia’s expression turns murderous and that’s when Stiles realizes he should have backed down when he had the chance. “Let me ask you something. Have you ever been in so much pain that the extreme nausea you feel renders you helpless?”

Stiles starts to say yes but Lydia stops him with a single cold look. “Let me finish.”

“Imagine for one week, every month, for forty or so years, you have to deal with cramping that feels like someone is repeatedly stabbing you in the stomach while simultaneously clawing out your insides. You experience a horrible headache, bloating, a craving for insurmountable amounts of chocolate and a marathon of Nicholas Sparks movies. You also get to deal with the joys of blood coming out of you all while an idiot boy tells you that it’s not a big deal. Have you ever experienced that, Stiles?”

Stiles blanches at all of the information thrown his way and admits to himself that having a period really does sounds like the worst. He’s so glad he wasn’t born with a uterus.

“No.” He admits quietly and Lydia can smell victory in the air.

“Didn’t think so,” she says and brings her tray consisting of chicken salad and an apple up from the table, looking at him expectantly.

He knows she’s waiting for an apology so he says as much appeasing her enough to be done with the conversation and she struts away with Allison in tow.

“Dude, what just happened?” Stiles asks, but when he looks towards Scott he finds that his eyes are following Allison’s every move.

“Did you see that?” Scott asks excitedly, jumping up and down in place.

Stiles has no idea what he’s talking about. 

“If you mean how I just got verbally bitch slapped by Lydia then yes Scott I did.”

Scott gives him the how-could-you-not-see-that-you’re-so-dense look and rolls his eyes. “Allison looked at me! She knows I’m a person!”

Stiles just stares at him and walks away, leaving Scott to fawn over the wonders of Allison Argent. 

Stiles scopes out their usual spot and finds that it’s been taken over by the jocks and cheerleaders. He grinds his teeth together and lets out a long sigh because it appears that there aren’t any tables left for him and Scott to eat their lunch at. Typical.

“Dude, where are we going to sit?” Scott seems to have finally come back from Allison Wonderland TM. 

Stiles accesses every table but he doesn’t think they’ll be welcome to sit with anyone. He refuses to be one of those clichés where the loner student eats their lunch in the bathroom stall on the toilet or worse with the teaching staff. Just as he’s about to give up and skip lunch all together, a voice echoes over the cacophony of students chattering in the cafeteria.

“Stiles! Over here!”

Stiles tracks the voice and finds that it belongs to Derek who’s surrounded by his fellow star athletes and their groupies. He’s sitting with his arm around some blonde cheerleader whose hanging on to his every word like he’s a Roman God in the flesh. Jackson shoves at Derek while simultaneously talking at him angrily but Stiles is too far away to hear what he’s saying. He assumes he’s arguing with Derek about how Jackson wants Stiles to sit right next to him because he’s secretly in love with Stiles. He imagines Jackson will get on his knees and beg for his forgiveness while he spoon feeds Stiles and compliments his many impressive attributes.

That doesn’t happen in the slightest but hey, a guy can dream right?

Stiles debates whether or not he should even be interacting with Derek. After all, this is the same person who has bullied Stiles tirelessly for the past several years. Now out of the blue Derek is acting like Stiles is one of his bros which is definitely not the case. Derek’s most likely just screwing with him. He’s probably concocted this master plan to gain Stiles’ trust back all so that he can stab him in the back and throw pig’s blood on him at the school dance. 

His mind made up, Stiles chooses to ignore Derek and sits with Allison and Lydia who are staring at him like he’s grown two heads. Scott is practically falling over himself as he sits himself in the seat closest to Allison who gifts him with a small smile. 

The two girls are still staring, making him even more uncomfortable at the sudden turn of events, especially after Lydia’s period propaganda. He clears his throat and opens his carton of chocolate milk. “What? Is it Wednesday and I’m not wearing pink?”

Lydia scoffs at him, “It’s been eleven years since Mean Girls came out. Enough with the quotes.”

“It’s not my fault you remind everyone of Regina George.”

“I guess that would make you Janis Ian my lesbian stalker.”

Allison coughs loudly to break up the tension in the air and redirects their attention on to her. “So is everyone ready for the big homecoming game?”

Scott nods his head so hard that Stiles thinks it may fall off. Man, he’s beyond whipped and they aren’t even dating. 

“For sure. Can’t wait. Really excited.” Scott’s voice cracks at the end and Stiles expects Allison to mimic Lydia who’s decided to ignore their existence, focused entirely on her cell phone with a bored expression on her face. Instead, Allison giggles and tucks a stray curl behind her ear, dimples on full display.

Scott absolutely melts at the sight and Stiles thinks he might throw up because it’s so disgustingly cute. With the two of them off in their own little world and Lydia being engrossed with her phone, Stiles is left to himself. He starts to fidget nervously because he’s pretty positive the eyes he feels on the back of his neck belong to Derek. Don’t look back. Don’t look back. Don’t look…

Stiles feels a hand grab his right shoulder and he nearly screams in surprise. The hand touching him retreats and Derek has his arms out in front of him defensively. “I come in peace.”

Stiles’ heart is beating out of his chest and not just from Derek sneaking up on him. Derek obviously showered after dropping Stiles off at the nurse’s office. His hair is partially wet and he smells like the musk of men’s body wash. Stiles needs to start thinking about something gross because the thought of Derek in the shower is doing things to his body that his mind is not on board with. Lydia saves him from the embarrassment.

“Can you please tell Jackson to stop texting me? Tell him I’m not interested in dating someone who takes more time getting ready in the morning than I do.”

Derek regards her silently and lifts a single eyebrow, “Why don’t you tell him yourself?”

Lydia doesn’t look up from her cell phone but she smiles tightly, “I don’t want to see him and I blocked his number so I need you to relay my message. Thank you.”

Without waiting for a response she gathers up her tray, says a goodbye to Allison who is still engrossed in her conversation with Scott, and walks away elegantly in five inch heels. Stiles is impressed because the one time he and Scott tried on Ms. MCall’s heels he fractured his foot. 

Derek sits in Lydia’s previous seat across from Stiles and smiles, “How are you feeling?”

Stiles suddenly becomes very interested with his fries so that he doesn’t give away how shot his nerves are with the 180 in Derek’s personality. “Fine.”

They sit there silently for awhile until Derek speaks again. “So how’s your dad doing?”

At this point Stiles has had enough with the bullshit small talk so he glares up at Derek and stands. “Look, I don’t know why you think we’re cool after all the shit you’ve done so let me make it clear. We’re not.”

And with that, Stiles leaves a shocked looking Derek at his departure. He almost escapes before Jackson decides to block the exit and spill his tray over the front of his shirt.

The cat vomit lunch is all over his P.E uniform and all Stiles can think is what a pain it’ll be to get the stain out. Jackson and the others are laughing and Stiles can’t help but turn around and see Derek’s reaction at the whole thing. 

Derek is staring at him like he’s debating with himself but he makes no move to help Stiles. That’s all Stiles needs to know to call bullshit on the nice guy act.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Are you sure you don’t have any other shirts I could wear?”

The older lady continues to scroll through her Facebook feed not looking up at him once. “Nope.”

The box labeled lost and found is his only option at this point because his only spare pair of clothes magically disappeared from his locker. So either he sucks it up and picks a shirt out of the box of horrors or he spends the rest of the day in his vomit shirt.

Resigned, Stiles tries to decide between two shirts. One is a size 4X and says “Jesus Loves Me” with a questionable stain on it and the other states “World’s Greatest Mom.” Stiles braces himself for his impending humiliation and goes for option two.

He goes to the bathroom to change and texts Scott to meet him. When Scott walks in he stops dead in his tracks before doubling over in laughter. Stiles waits for him to be finished and crosses his arms over his chest in annoyance. 

After several minutes Scott settles down and wipes at his watering eyes, “Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant, man? I thought we told each other everything.”

Stiles grins wickedly and shrugs, “Its Allison’s so I thought I’d spare you the heartbreak.”

“Hey! That’s not funny!” Scott actually seems angry at the impossible scenario. 

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Please just tell me you have a jacket or something.”

Scott shakes his head apologetically, “Nope. The only extra shirt I have hasn’t been washed since the beginning of the school year.”

That was two months ago which explains why Scott is always bathing himself in cologne reminding Stiles of their middle school days. One time the whole school got evacuated because too many boys were spraying themselves in bottles of Axe. Needless to say, cologne was officially banned from the premises.

“Shit.”

The bell rings, signaling the end of lunch. Stiles has to head to AP English but he takes solace in the fact that none of the jocks share the class with him. Saying his goodbyes to Scott he hurriedly makes his way to class with his backpack clutched tightly in front of him. 

He stops however when he spots the black eye Jackson is sporting with an accompanying snarl on his face. Jackson catches his confused gaze and shoves him roughly with his shoulder on his way past, “The fuck are you looking at?”

Before he can even comprehend what’s happening, Jackson is already gone and Stiles is left severely confused. Usually Jackson would have at least locked him in a locker. It seems as though Karma has worked her magic and Stiles’ mood has brightened immensely, “World’s Greatest Mom” shirt and all.

He picks his usual spot in the back corner where a few seats are unoccupied and takes out his notebook and pen. Ignoring everyone around him, he draws Greenberg farting in Jackson’s face because he’s a mature adult. 

He hears the chair next to him screech, signaling someone’s presence. A familiar musky smell clouds his senses and he snaps his head up quickly to see Derek smiling sheepishly at him. This cannot be real life. 

Stiles pinches himself hard and winces at the pain. Nope, he’s still here with Derek fucking Hale who is now officially stalking him.

“You do remember my dad’s the sheriff right? Do I need to ask him for a restraining order?”

Derek laughs and runs a hand to muss through his hair. “I remember. I also remember when we used to play cops and robbers. We made the best team.”

Stiles thinks back to those days. They would have sleepovers practically every night promising to stay best friends no matter what came their way. Derek was a constant in his life after his mother died and if it weren’t for him holding Stiles’ hand during her funeral he wouldn’t have even gone. Derek was there with him through everything, but that all changed. The past was the past.

“Good for you. You still didn’t answer my question.”

Derek sighs, realizing that Stiles isn’t going to fall for his charm, “I needed a change. Part of that change is actually applying myself in school. So I decided to transfer out of the regular English class for this one.”

“That’s great, Derek. It really is. How about you apply yourself at the next available seat?” 

“Stiles, please. Let me explain…”

Stiles puts up a hand to stop him and stares incredulously, “Why should I? Give me one good reason why I should listen to anything you have to say.”

Derek’s entire body is tense with determination and he scoots his seat closer to Stiles, “I don’t have one. There’s no excuse for the way I’ve treated you. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

Derek’s expression turns soft, “You still don’t.”

He looks and sounds sincere but there’s something weighing heavily on Stiles’ mind. “If you’ve had such a change of heart why didn’t you do anything when Jackson threw his lunch at me?”

Derek looks down at the desk and clenches his fist. His knuckles are red and swollen and that’s when it clicks. 

Derek punched Jackson.


	3. Hello

“So you’re the one I should be thanking for that hilarious sight?”

Stiles whispers the question because the teacher has started her lecture on the book _The Heart of Darkness_ which Stiles has yet to open. He was supposed to read chapters one through five last night but Netflix won out in the end like usual. He did get through four more episodes of The Walking Dead, which in his mind is just as important.

Derek rubs his red, swollen knuckles and shrugs, “He deserved more than that.”

Stiles agrees wholeheartedly. Jackson deserves a lot more than that, but so does Derek. He should be on his knees, begging for Stiles’ forgiveness with a bag of Reese’s peanut butter cups in hand because they’re Stiles’ favorite candy.

Stiles voices his thoughts and Derek nods his head in agreement. “I’m a horrible person. I know I don’t deserve it, but do you think you can give me a second chance?”

Stiles takes in his pleading eyes and feels himself start to soften at his request. He’s always been weak when it came to Derek, including the time Derek accidentally broke his brand new helicopter toy when they were eight years old. Derek cried big, fat crocodile tears and Stiles was unable to resist the same face that Derek is giving him now.

“Fine. I’ll be the bigger person here and give you a second chance. It doesn’t mean we’re all of a sudden best friends but I don’t see why we can’t be civil. As long as you can control Jackass Jackson.”

Derek looks belated and nods his head eagerly, “Jackson shouldn’t bother you anymore. If he does just let me know, I’ll take care of it.”

Relief swells in his chest at the thought of finally getting some peace from the future frat boys known as Jackson and his crew and smiles.

“Do you need me to take you to the nurse?” Stiles gestures at Derek’s bruised knuckles, wiggling his eyebrows making Derek roll his eyes paired with a small laugh, “I think I’ll survive.”

“Whatever you say.”

“You should come over to my place after school. My family misses you.” Derek looks excited at the idea but it kind of terrifies Stiles. How is he going to explain his absence all of these years? Did they know that Derek was a major douche up until today?

“I’ll think about it.” Stiles chews at the eraser of his pencil and tries to focus on the teacher, failing when he notices the coy glances Derek shoots his way every couple of minutes.

Eventually the bell rings, students running out of their seats in a hurry to escape.

“Did I say you could leave?” The teacher’s asks, clearly irritated that the class is over. Groans resonate throughout the room as students sulkily throw themselves back into their seats. “I need to tell you the homework for tonight.“

 More groans, “Read chapters six through ten and write a two thousand word essay on the themes you find throughout the chapters.”

She’s about to dismiss the class when a small, hesitant voice speaks out, “Ms. Argent? You forgot to collect last night’s homework assignment.”

Everyone turns to glare at Greenberg who is sweating profusely at the attention. Stiles shakes his head because Greenberg just made himself enemy number one. There’s always that one person in class who has to remind the teacher of forgotten homework assignments, past and present. Stiles isn’t too upset because despite not reading the chapters, he actually managed to write last night’s essay using Sparknotes.

The rest of the class is still fuming as the teacher smiles and thanks him, requesting the students pass up their papers. Stiles notices Derek’s lack of homework and eyes him questioningly, “I thought you were going to apply yourself more.”

Derek smirks, “It’s my first day in this class. Mine isn’t due until tomorrow.”

That’s so not fair. Stiles huffs out a breath because good- looking people have it so easy.

“Derek, may I speak with you for a moment?” Derek looks to the teacher who is watching them curiously.

“Wait for me at my locker.”

Stiles nods and slips out of the classroom, wondering when everything will come crashing down.

-

He’s leaning against the locker, playing with the rubber band around his wrist when Derek sneaks up on him. “Hey,” Derek whispers against his neck and Stiles jumps, strangely startled and aroused at the warm breath across his skin. He rubs the skin there and clears his throat, “Hey.” He doesn’t know what else to say, settling for a simple greeting in response.

Derek eyes his “World’s Greatest Mom Shirt” and stifles back a laugh, bringing his hands to the bottom of his Henley and pulling it over his head. “Here,” he’s holding the used shirt to Stiles and he takes it wordlessly, a blush forming across his skin at Derek’s bare chest. “Thanks.”

“I’m going to go change in the bathroom.” He moves towards the men’s room but Derek grabs his upper arm, “You can change in the locker room. I have practice but afterwards we can go to my place.”

Derek doesn’t give him a chance to refuse and walks ahead, looking back at Stiles to make sure he follows. Stiles doesn’t see a reason not to and trails behind him, resisting the urge to bury his nose in the shirt and inhale, that would be way too creepy. He’ll just do that when he’s home alone.

They approach the locker room but both stop when they hear a loud, screeching singing. “SO HELLO FROM THE OTHER SIDEEEEEEEE. I MUST’VE CALLED A THOUSAND TIMEEESSSSS, TO TELL YOU IM SORRY, FOR BREAKING YOUR HEART BUT IT DON’T MATTER IT CLEARLY DOESN’T TEAR YOU APART ANYMORE!”

Stiles would know that voice anywhere. Derek and he look at each other with wide eyes before running towards the doorway, a magnificent sight playing out before them. Jackson is shirtless and wailing into his deodorant stick, looking at himself in the mirror as he sings dramatically to his own reflection. He’s the only one in the locker room at the moment, oblivious to the audience watching him.

Stiles stuffs his face into Derek’s shirt to hold back the laughter bubbling up from his throat while Derek pulls out his phone to record the amateur music video performance. Derek’s face is turning red and he continues to record Jackson who is now caressing the mirror with the tips of his fingers.

Stiles can’t hold it in any longer and lets out a loud bark of laughter, making Jackson’s high pitched scream echo in the empty room.

He glares when he realizes the laughter came from Stiles and brings up a clenched fist, “You’re gonna get it.”

Before he can follow through with his threat, Derek clicks his tongue and shakes his recording phone at him, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. If you so much as glare at Stiles, I will post this video for the whole world to see. “ He plays the video to make his point, Jackson’s wailing voice booming over the speakers.

“Fuck you, Hale. Have fun with your little boyfriend,” he sneers at Derek before turning his attention to Stiles, “It’s so nice of you to help Derek get his grades up, you know, since coach threatened to kick him off the team if he failed another test.”

Stiles feels himself grow cold at his confession, making Jackson grin before sauntering off to the field. Stiles blinks and turns towards Derek who looks as though the wind was knocked out of him, “He’s making it sound bad…”

Stiles holds up his hand and smiles wryly at him, “No, I get it now. You’re being nice to me because you need the resident nerd to do your homework for you.”

“Not do my homework, just help me with it. You’re so smart, Stiles, and I need to stay on the team to get a scholarship.”

Stiles nods his head and sucks at his teeth, “So what’s in it for me?”

Derek swallows heavily and looks down at his feet, “I’ll pay you if you want.” He then looks up, “I’ll do whatever you want.”

Stiles considers him and pulls the shirt off, making Derek’s eyes widen in surprise. “Uh, you want me to…” he trails off but shuts up when Stiles gives him a pointed look, pulling Derek’s Henley over his frame.

“Seriously? I’m not going to have you pay me back with sex for tutoring.”

Derek looks sheepish before biting his lip, “What if I wanted to?”

Stiles feels a tingle down his spine but shakes it off, “I’m good. I prefer cash.”

Derek clenches his jaw and eyes Stiles in his shirt, “Sure,” he looks at Stiles for a moment longer and sighs, “Thanks, I’ve got to get to practice but I’ll text you later.”

“You don’t have my number.”

Derek smirks, “Actually I do.”

“Well that’s creepy. Christian Grey status right there.”

Derek chuckles, walking past Stiles before stopping at the door, “Keep the shirt. It looks good on you.”

With that he walks towards the field, leaving Stiles to question what his life has come to.

-

Why Stiles is sitting with Lydia, Allison and Scott watching Derek and the lacrosse team practice is a mystery to him. He guesses he’s curious as to what Derek looks like when he’s playing, since he’s never actually been to a game before. The new revelation that Derek is sucking up to him for tutoring doesn’t sting as much as he thought it would, at least he knows Derek’s agenda and if it comes with the added benefit of no more beat downs then he’s perfectly okay with that.

Derek and Jackson have been glowering at one another the whole time, tackling at every chance they get.

“So are you and Derek a couple now?” Lydia appears uninterested in her question as she stares at her fresh manicure, but the calculated look in her eye tells a different story.

Scott stops ogling Allison and gaps at him, “You’re dating Derek?”

Stiles groans, stuffing his face into his hands. This is how rumors get started and Derek most likely wouldn’t appreciate this particular one.

“I’m not dating Derek. I’m not even remotely dating Derek and I never, ever will.” Stiles looks up at the unimpressed expression on Lydia’s face and scowls, “besides he’s not even gay.”

He looks towards the field where a group of girls is hollering every time Derek passes them. They even have a **_We Love Derek Hale_** poster that they’re waving around. Derek seems to soak up the attention and Stiles looks back to Lydia.

“You sure about that?” She nods her head towards the field and this time when Stiles looks over, Derek is staring straight at him.

Stiles looks away hurriedly and chews at the bottom of his lip. Just because Derek propositioned him in the locker room doesn’t mean he’s gay. It’s not like Derek would actually enjoy himself if he took him up on the offer. They did play husband and wife when they were kids and shocker Stiles was always the wife, but they were just innocent kids playing house. That doesn’t mean anything.

“Maybe you’re right after all, Stiles.” Lydia’s voice breaks him from thought and he spots Derek hugging a dark haired girl tightly.

Stiles glowers at the sight but when they pull back from the embrace, he recognizes the beautiful girl.

Cora Hale.

Stiles hadn’t seen her since before Derek and he were friends. She went to live with relatives in Germany a couple years back, having been bitten by the travel bug since she was young. Derek nods Stiles’ way and she turns and waves at him, a bright smile on her face. He doesn’t know how to react because he’s not sure how much she knows about their situation. He goes for a small wave back and turns towards Scott, butterflies in his stomach.

“I don’t think I can handle any more surprises for today,” he keeps his eyes down and plays with the bottom of Derek’s shirt. Scott tugs on the sleeve, making Stiles look up and stares at him with pity, “I don’t think you have a choice in the matter.”

“Yo, Stiles!”

Cora’s soft, girlish voice yells out to him as she appears in his line of sight. Her long, dark hair is curled to perfection and her skin is practically glowing. Good genes in that family.

He can’t hold back his grin as he looks her from head to toe, “It looks like Germany has treated you well. How’ve you been?”

She sits across from him and pulls him into a warm hug, her sweet perfume wafting in the air around them. “Aw, you’re just buttering me up so you can get in my pants.”

“Uh?”

She drops the serious expression and barks out a laugh, “You’ve always been so gullible.”

Before he can respond Lydia has scooted closer and eyes Cora with a sickly sweet smile, “Excuse me? Who exactly are you?”

Cora raises an eyebrow (must run in the family) and extends a hand, “Cora Hale.”

Lydia’s eyes flare with recognition but she pretends to remain oblivious, “Sorry, the name doesn’t sound familiar.”

Cora narrows her eyes, dropping her hand and tilts her head to the side. Stiles watches the scene play out in fascination because Lydia may have just met her match, while Allison and Scott are looking between the two of them nervously.

“That’s okay. I’m transferring here so I’m sure you won’t forget it soon enough,” Cora flips her hair and stands up, looking at Stiles expectantly. “You coming? Derek told me you’re going home with us.”

Stiles is conflicted on what to do. On one hand he should tell Derek to fuck off and find some other victim to tutor him but on the other hand he really could use the money. His Jeep wasn’t making the best noises lately.

“I guess I am,” he says goodbye to the group and walks with Cora as she loops her arm through his, leaving behind a baffled Scott and Allison and Lydia, who is watching them leave with interest.

“Remind me to avoid Ms. Ice Queen over there. I hope not everyone who goes here has turned into such assholes.”

Stiles smiles wryly, “Oh, you have no idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cora Vs Lydia, who will win? 
> 
> P.S Adele is everything right now


	4. XXL

Stiles couldn’t be more uncomfortable if he tried. Cora had insisted that he sit up front with Derek, refusing to take no for an answer. Derek seemed content with the upcoming family reunion but Stiles picked up on the nervous tick in his jaw alongside his bright smile, no doubt worrying about which sordid details of their diminished friendship Stiles was willing to reveal. Cora remained oblivious to the tension in the car, instead choosing to maneuver herself into a comfortable position with her feet resting lazily on the center console. Derek glowered at her dirty shoes but said nothing, deciding to pick his battles wisely.

“So, Stiles, tell me about this Lydia girl. I want all the juicy details,” Stiles chances a glance in the review mirror and finds Cora preoccupied with her phone while simultaneously opening a bag of chips.

“There’s not much to tell. She’s dating Jackson Whitmore though,” that seems to gain Cora’s attention. She sits up, the abrupt movement causing the chips to spill all over the upholstery.

“Oops.”

Derek whips his head around, his eyes darting at every single crumb spilled between the seats in his precious Camaro. “What did I say about eating in my car?” his voice has a familiar angry edge to it, like he’s used this tone with his sibling thousands of times.

Cora seems unaffected by his mood, rolling her eyes and grinning, “So you don’t care about bodily fluids in your car but a couple of crumbs piss you off?”

Derek looks confused but thankfully turns back to face the road, “I’ve never had sex in this car.”

“Guess that was just me then.”

Stiles can’t help but crack a smile at their banter. Cora has always been his favorite Hale, especially now. She knows exactly what buttons to press with Derek, never failing to put his narcissistic self in his place. They fought constantly when they were kids, resulting in Stiles having to be the mediator ninety percent of the time.

Derek is so agitated that the veins in his forehead are starting to make an appearance, “Cora, I swear if you…”

“Is that a white stain on the seat?” Cora’s amused voice cackles from the back.

Stiles can see where this argument is headed and he turns on the radio, Drake’s latest song blasting through the speakers. They turn to stare at him for a moment, the bickering instantly stopping before Cora shrugs and sings along to Hotline Bling. Meanwhile, Derek groans out in pain.

“I hate this song so much,” Derek bangs his head against the back of his seat and turns the radio off, the sudden silence in the car deafening.

“That’s just because you dance exactly like Drake in his music video,” Derek starts to protest but Cora isn’t having it, “Don’t lie. I saw you last night, you have no rhythm. It’s embarrassing, really.”

Stiles smiles and internally gives himself a pat on the back for breaking up the argument. Some things never change. He decides to join in on the fun for old times sake.

“He probably dances like that because he has a huge stick up his ass,” Stiles chimes in. Cora laughs gleefully at him, giving him a pat on the back while Derek looks like he would rather be anywhere else.

“He wishes something was up his…”

Derek presses harder on the gas pedal, lurching Cora forward in her seat and noticeably speeding up the car in an effort to escape the torment. Derek mutters something under his breath that Stiles can’t make out but Cora seems to have heard it perfectly. She whispers back but Stiles can’t understand her either and he thinks maybe he should keep the volume to a minimum when he uses his earphones from now on.

With Derek’s driving they make it to the Hale house in record time. It’s exactly how Stiles remembers it, an instinctively warm feeling settling in his chest at the memories that are brought to the forefront of his mind. The house is surrounded by flowers consisting of lavender, winter rose and paper daises that Mrs. Hale planted. Stiles used to help her in the gardens after his mother died. It helped to stifle the hollow feeling in his chest after his mother passed away; reminding him that even fragile things can still recover and thrive from the cold.

It’s a two story house, the picturesque home of a warm, loving family. All it’s missing is the white picket fence. Once the initial happiness fades away, sadness takes it place. The abandonment he felt when Derek and his family disappeared from his life a sad reminder of all the times he spent crying himself to sleep at night, wondering what he did wrong.

A warm hand takes his and Derek assesses his reaction, “Are you okay?”

Stiles pulls his hand away and wraps his arms around his body, as if to protect himself from any further harm. “I’m fine,” Stiles keeps his voice monotone but Derek seems worried, noticing the change in Stiles’ persona.

Derek looks as though he wants to say more but he drops it, choosing to go inside the house instead. Cora offers him a small smile and bumps shoulders with him, “Don’t worry Stiles, everyone missed you.”

He nods and takes a steadying breath as they enter the Hale home. Not much has changed since he was here last, the impeccable interior design still as stunning as ever. The walls are covered in family photos but one in particular catches his eye. He stands in front of the photo for closer inspection; it’s of Derek and him when they were around eleven years old. They’re holding hands with bright smiles across their faces, not a care in the world. Stiles can’t believe the photo is still on display, he thought they would have taken it down to erase the memory.

“Do you remember that day?” Derek’s tentative voice asks him softly.

Stiles’ eyes never stray from the photo, afraid if he meets Derek’s eyes that he’ll break out in tears. He nods wordlessly in response.

“It was after Cora threw us a fake wedding. We ate Oreos as the wedding cake and you picked flowers from mom’s garden for the bouquet and of course, Cora pushed her way through all of the cousins to catch it,” he chuckles at the memory and Stiles turns his head to finally stare at him. Derek’s smile drops when he catches the look on his face, “Yeah. It wasn’t too long after that when you pretended I didn’t exist anymore.”

Derek opens his mouth but Stiles shakes his head, “It doesn’t matter. Kids play pretend but we’re all grown up now and we don’t have to pretend that any of that meant anything.”

“It’s one of my happiest memories. It means everything to me,” Derek swallows heavily, “Come see mom, she’s in the kitchen.”

Stiles doesn’t know how to respond to that but he pushes down the warm feeling swelling in his chest. Now is not the time to grow soft. The smell of homemade cookies fills his nostrils when he enters the kitchen and Talia Hale looks as beautiful as the last time he saw her. His entire demeanor changes when he sees her, the nostalgia he tried to push deep down bubbling to the surface.

She lifts her arms in the air for a hug and smiles at him warmly, “Stiles! I’m so happy to see you.”

He can’t help but oblige, reveling in her familiar motherly gesture and squeezing her back in return. When they finally pull away she looks down at him and Stiles can detect a look of pity in her eyes, “How’ve you been, dear?”

Stiles quickly glances at Derek who’s staring intently down at the floor before turning his attention back to her, “I’m great. Derek just needed some extra help with class.”

“You’ve always been such a sweet boy. I made you your favorite,” she offers him a peanut butter blossom cookie, his mouth waters at the sight. He bites into it and holds back a moan, his taste buds are buzzing at the sugary sweet cookie. Talia chuckles at his response and he thanks her while he grabs another cookie.

“We should probably get to working on that paper,” Derek is fidgeting nervously and his energy is now affecting Stiles. He feels his heart race and he nods in agreement, “Yeah, we should.”

Talia waves them off, “I’ll call you boys when dinner’s ready. Your Uncle Peter invited himself when he heard Stiles was coming over.”

“Of course he did,” Derek huffs out in annoyance and leads Stiles up the stairs to his room.

Cora follows behind them but goes the opposite direction, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she winks.

Derek rolls his eyes but otherwise ignores her and opens the door to his room. Stiles doesn’t know what he expected, but this wasn’t it. Not much has changed, of course all of his childhood toys are gone but the huge bookcase that adjourned the left wall is still in place. His bed is bigger and his Batman sheets have been replaced with stark white ones. His walls are mostly bare except for some posters of pro lacrosse athletes. What Stiles certainly did not expect was the Magic Mike poster hanging above his bed alongside a Justin Bieber Purpose Tour poster.

Stiles meets Derek’s reddened face with a snicker, “I didn’t realize you were a Channing Tatum fan,” he points towards the next poster, “or a Belieber.”

Derek hurriedly tears the posters off of the wall and rolls them up in a ball, throwing them in the nearest trash can, “Fucking Cora.”

Stiles can swear he hears Cora’s laugh in the background but there’s no way she heard them, unless she’s eavesdropping outside of his bedroom door.

“I’m not judging. His new music isn’t half bad,” he sits in the chair in front of Derek’s computer desk, continuing to survey his surroundings.

Derek flops down onto his back on his bed and throws an arm over his face. Stiles lets his eyes wander from his tousled hair, to the skin of his hips from where his shirt has ridden up. He averts his gaze and says, “We should probably work on the essay we were assigned.”

Derek groans into his arm but otherwise agrees, “Yeah, okay.”

He moves to sit beside Derek on the bed and grabs _The Heart of Darkness_ from Derek’s backpack, rearranging himself into a more comfortable position and leaning into the headboard. Derek follows suit and presses his shoulder against Stiles’, leaving no room for personal space. Stiles ignores the way his heart flutters at the contact and coughs, “So we need to explore the themes.”

Derek hums and miraculously presses himself even closer and Stiles didn’t even know that was possible. Derek is so close to his face that if Stiles turns his head just a fraction, their noses will touch. His warm breath ghosts over Stiles neck as he talks, “Darkness.”

Stiles turns his head and is met with Derek’s dark gaze, “Everything is cloaked in darkness. The settings in the book are described as gloomy and dark, even when there’s light,” Derek’s eyes soften at the last word and Stiles thinks they’re not just talking about the book now.

Stiles gaps at him because, _woah_ , where did that come from?

Stiles pulls back, putting some space between them, “Good. You should explore that theme in your paper.”

Derek just looks at him with an unreadable expression on his face before he plops himself down in the computer desk and gets to work.

About an hour later, Derek rubs at his eyes and declares that he’s done while Stiles finished his essay thirty minutes ago. Derek stretches before peeling away his jersey, revealing a body built with muscles from all of his lacrosse work. Stiles can’t help but be mesmerized from the sight, yes Derek is a jerk, but that doesn’t mean he can’t appreciate a hot bod when he sees one.

When he manages to finish ogling he finds that Derek is wearing a wry smile on his face, “I’m going to clean up before dinner.”

“Cool. I’ll just,” he shakes his computer and Derek nods, leaving Stiles to himself in his room. Stiles tries to concentrate on his biology homework, he really does, but it’s hard to resist the temptation of poking through Derek’s belongings.

He makes sure the door is closed and starts with under Derek’s mattress, he’s curious if he has a porn stash. He lifts the mattress up but doesn’t find anything, _huh_. Guess he uses the internet like everyone else these days. He looks in the night stand beside his bed and rummages through its contents. There are tons of condoms, XXL size. Stiles doesn’t let himself ponder that too long and slips one into his pocket for reasons unknown to him. There’s a couple bottles of lube and some lotion but not much else, he figures this must be Derek’s own personal Bate Crate. Or not since it’s not hard for the guy to get laid.

He moves on to Derek’s closet, looking through his clothes until he notices a shoe box hidden in the corner. He shakily opens it, his breath catching in his throat at the contents. It’s full of mementos from when they were kids. There’s a ton of pictures of them together- when they were camping, both of them missing their two front teeth at the same time, one where they’re helping his dad build their tree house. Stiles’ lips wobble when he picks up a homemade bracelet with the engraving **_S.S+D.H._**

Stiles can’t believe Derek kept it after all these years. They had both made each other friendship bracelets, promising to remain together always. Stiles had thrown his in the garbage after Derek told him they couldn’t be friends and he didn’t see the point in keeping it.

A knock at the door startles him and he hurriedly puts everything back in the box, pushing it back into place. He stands uprights and tries to pose casually, “Yes?”

His heart is pounding in his chest as Talia pokes her head through the door; her eyes focus in on his chest before she looks at him worriedly and slowly approaches him, “Are you okay, Stiles?”

He thought he looked normal but he guesses the anxiety of almost being caught is showing through. He tries to smile at her but it comes out as more of a grimace, “Yeah, I’m fine. You just startled me.”

She looks at him warmly and sits on Derek’s bed, patting the spot next to her. Stiles takes a seat and bounces slightly in place, making her chuckle softly, “You still have trouble keeping still I see.”

Stiles ducks his head in embarrassment, “It’s better than it used to be.”

She grasps his hand and looks at him with sad eyes, “I’m sorry we haven’t kept in touch. I know things must have been difficult for you.”

Stiles feels guilt form in his gut because that part is his fault. After Derek and he stopped being friends, Talia tried to stay in touch. She would call and check up on him, invite him over to garden, she even wrote him letters but Stiles pushed her advances away. It was just too difficult for him to see her and not think of Derek. He knew that he wouldn’t have been able to move on if he allowed himself to stay a part of the family.

“I’m sorry too. Maybe I’ll stop by more.”

Her eyes brighten at the suggestion and she pats his hand, “I’d like that.”

Derek saunters into the room; his hair is dripping with water and the only thing covering his naked body is a towel that’s hanging low on his hips. He looks between them and tightens his hold on his towel when Talia looks at him pointedly, “Why didn’t you change in the bathroom?”

Derek groans, “What? Am I not allowed to get dressed in my own room?”

She looks at him knowingly before she gets up; making a point to keep the door open but her stern demeanor cracks and her amusement bleeds through. “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.”

They’re left alone and Derek goes into his closet to pull out his clothes, his back stiffening. “Did you look through my closet?”

How the hell did he know? Stiles put everything perfectly back in its place. His heart skips a beat as he lies, “Nope.”

Derek quirks his head and narrows his eyes like he doesn’t believe him but he turns back around and drops the towel, his naked ass in all its glory on full display.

Stiles makes a noise low in his throat and forces himself to face the opposite wall. Stiles tries to think of anything else so that he doesn’t have to apologize for an awkward boner. Thankfully, the image of Jackson singing Adele pops in his head and he relaxes, smirking at the memory.

“You can look now,” Derek says, now properly dressed in a black Henley and tight jeans. Why does he have to be so good looking?

They make their way downstairs for dinner and Cora meets them halfway, wiggling her eyebrows, “Anything interesting happen?”

Derek shoves at her and growls, “Its creepy how invested you are in my sex life.”

Cora shoves him back just as hard, earning her a wince from Derek and a high five from Stiles, “Please. The world doesn’t revolve around your dick.”

They finally make it to the kitchen with Cora and Derek making snappy comments to the other the whole way. Talia is standing over a boiling pot of sauce, holding a wooden spoon out for Stiles to taste. It smells delicious but when Stiles has a taste, a variety of flavors explode on his tongue. He hums his approval because he forgot what an extraordinary cook Talia Hale was, especially since his meals consisted mostly of Ramen noodles and Hot Pockets.

She instructs the two siblings to set the table and urges Stiles to relax and take a seat. Just as he begins to do so, in walks Peter Hale. When his eyes meet Stiles, a salacious grin forms on his face, “Well if it isn’t my favorite nephew,” he opens his arms wide, “Come give your Uncle Peter a hug.”

Stiles makes a face because he didn’t remember Peter being this creepy. Yes, he was always full of himself but he never gave off the he’s probably a registered sex offender vibe. When Stiles stands up, Peter’s eyes rake over his frame and Stiles has to hold back gagging, “My, you’ve grown into a handsome young man. You’re eighteen now, correct?”

Before Stiles can answer, Derek has his hand on the back of Stiles’ neck, using his body as a protective shield from Peter’s lewd eyes. “Fuck off.”

“Language, Derek!” Talia shouts but follows it with, “But yes, fuck off, Peter.”

“Feisty,” Peter practically purrs, taking the seat right next to Stiles. Cora sits across from Peter and nods her head at the seat next to her, “Sit by me, Stiles.”

Stiles gives her a grateful sigh of relief and hurriedly places himself beside her, not missing the way Peter grins at his hasty exit.

Once the food is set on the table and everyone’s plates are filled, they dig in. The seat at the head of the table is noticeably empty. Stiles had heard that Derek’s dad had split and he couldn’t help but feel bad for Derek and his family. Derek is seated next to Peter and he doesn’t look too happy about it, Stiles guesses there must be some bad blood between them.

Cora must notice the awkward silence. She digs into her spaghetti and says, “So you were going to tell me more about Lydia and Jackson?”

Stiles nods, “Yeah. They’ve been off and on for awhile, I’m sure Derek knows more about it since Jackson is his friend.”

Talia shakes her head, “I’ve never liked that boy. He seems like he has issues he needs to sort through.”

“Personally, I like the kid,” Peter chimes in and Stiles scoffs, muttering, “Of course you do.”

“Why don’t you like him, Stiles?” Peter looks between Derek and Stiles, as if he knows exactly what Stiles has been through.

“I just don’t,” he grits out, shooting Peter a dark look.

Cora nods her head in agreement, “Yeah, he gives off the douche vibe. He might as well wear a fedora and yell how his daddy is gonna sue you.”

Stiles can’t help but bust out in laughter, Derek and Talia joining in. Peter finishes his food and leans back, “Would you mind terribly getting me some more water, Stiles?”

Stiles gets up to do so, despite the protests from the others. “Its fine, I need more anyways.”

He brings over a pitcher of water to Peter, leaning over to fill his cup. He feels Peter fishing in his pocket and when he sees Peter’s wide grin, he knows exactly what Peter finds. “My, XXL? How lucky you are.”

He looks towards Derek, expecting to find recognition on his face when he sees the stolen condom, but he just looks shocked. Cora has tears running down her face from laughing too hard and she smacks her hand on the table, “Oh, man. I was hoping you’d find that.”

Stiles is confused as is Derek who is scowling at her, “What are you talking about?”

Cora wipes at her eyes and nods towards the condom, “I may have put some suggestive items in your drawer.”

Derek looks towards the condom, realization dawning on him, “You put extra large condoms in my drawer?”

“Yup. Just be lucky I didn’t put the smallest size in there,” she winks at Stiles and adds, “the lube is his though.”

Derek’s face turns red and he holds his breath, counting to ten under his breath. Peter is loving the drama and he adds his own two cents in, “I’m surprised you didn’t smell her, Derek. You should really work on your senses.”

Talia claps her hands together hastily and says, “Who wants dessert? Help me, Peter?”

“My pleasure,” Peter says, grinning from ear to ear as he follows her into the kitchen.

Stiles’ head is spinning and he has no idea what Peter was going on about, “Your senses?”

Derek and Cora look at each other and Derek rolls his eyes, “Who knows.”

Stiles would believe him but he doesn’t miss the warning look that Derek gives to Cora. He feels like he’s missing something, he just isn’t exactly sure what it is.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist making Peter creepy. I hope you enjoyed :) btw disregard the end note about continuing. It won't go away -_-


	5. Secrets and Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your lovely comments! You all make my day :)

“I have a feeling you guys aren’t telling me something,” Stiles eventually says, figuring that confrontation is the best way to get the truth out of the siblings. Derek’s eyes widen briefly before he relaxes his face and shovels a fork full of food into his mouth. Cora however, leans across the table and splays her hands on either side of Stiles, her eyes wide and sincere, “You caught me.”

Stiles waits in anticipation as he braces himself for what Cora is about to reveal. That they’re secretly in the mob? That Derek’s dad cooks blue meth? That Peter isn’t allowed within one hundred feet of the school? The possibilities running through his head are endless.

“I’m,” she gasps, looking around before whispering, “A”, Derek grabs her arm, looking panicked, “Vampire.”

Derek loosens his grip and rolls his eyes at her. If Stiles was to believe that she was actually a vampire, Derek just refuted it with his relieved reaction at her answer. It would be cool if supernatural beings really existed though.

“Yeah and I’m Bella Swan,” Stiles says bitingly, crossing his arms over his chest in annoyance at her deflection of telling the truth with her humor.

“You both drive a piece of shit car,” Cora says with a glimmer in her eye, smirking and then ducking when Stiles throws a bread stick at her head.

The doorbell rings and Cora jumps up, barely missing another breadstick that Stiles throws her way. He hears a male voice speaking with Cora and when he expects Cora to return, he hastily throws another breadstick but instead of it hitting Cora like he hopes, it smacks right into Jackson’s face.

“Oops,” Stiles says, “I am so sorry about that,” he makes his voice contrite but the wide smile on his face negates his apology.

Cora snickers behind her hand and Jackson glares daggers at him, taking a seat next to Derek. Derek turns to him but decides to stay silent, waiting for Jackson to be the one to make the first move. The earlier tension between them hasn’t seemed to have dissipated any and for the first time in Jackson’s life, he seems uncomfortable. His usual cocky demeanor is wavering and instead he seems unsure and lacking of confidence.

Jackson clears his throat and darts his eyes from the table to Derek’s face, “Are we cool?”

Derek looks unimpressed at his opening line, “The last time we spoke you were belting out to Adele and then proceeded to threaten Stiles and then tell him that the only reason I was being nice was because I was using him,” Jackson narrows his eyes as Derek continues, “so you tell me. Do you think we’re cool?”

“Wait, you like Adele?” Cora asks, plopping down next to Stiles and smirking at Jackson’s growing discomfort.

Jackson scowls and ignores her question, “Come on, Derek. We’ve been best friends for a long time. Why are you letting him,” he shoots Stiles a dark look, “get between us?”

Stiles leans forward and locks eyes with Derek, interested in the answer himself. Derek stares at him for a moment longer before breaking their eye contact and hardening his eyes, “I realized what really matters,” he glances at Stiles, “ _who_ really matters.”

Jackson chuckles humorlessly, biting his lip and nodding his head, “Don’t come crawling back to me after he figures out the truth.”

He stands up and looks at Stiles, his face emotionless, “Watch out for yourself, Stiles.”

It’s the way he says it that puts Stiles on edge. It’s not in a threatening manner, more like a _warning._ If anything it sounds like he’s giving Stiles sincere advice. With nothing more to say, Jackson leaves, slamming the door roughly behind him.

Cora looks at Derek and communicates something to him with a single look. Derek whispers under his breath but once again, Stiles can’t hear what he says. He’s so sick of the secrets and deception, he’s had enough for one night.

Stiles stands up abruptly and announces, “I’m leaving. Tell your mom goodbye for me.”

He makes his way to the door but Derek jumps up with tremendous speed and blocks his path, “Don’t go.”

Stiles tries to maneuver around him but Derek refuses to budge. Derek’s expression softens and his throat moves as he swallows, whispering the next word, “Please.”

Stiles closes his eyes, refusing to let his resolve melt from Derek’s plea and takes in a deep breath, filling his lungs with much needed air. He lets the breath out and opens his eyes, trying to remain calm, “Why should I? It’s obvious you’re both lying to me.”

Derek doesn’t refute the notion and says, “At least let me drive you home.”

Stiles takes in Derek’s anxious posture, and nods, Derek relaxing instantly and grabbing his keys. Stiles glances at Cora who has an unreadable expression on her face and waves goodbye to her, getting a nod in return.

The car ride is awkward to say the least. Derek usually drives as if he’s in the fast and furious but this time he’s going the speed limit, biding his time. He’s holding onto the steering wheel tightly and the muscle in his jaw jumps every so often. Stiles tears his gaze away and stares out the window, noticing how bright the moon looks.

They finally pull up to Stiles’ house, the driveway empty except for his Jeep because his dad is working the night shift. Derek shuts the car off and takes out his wallet, handing Stiles several hundred dollar bills, “Thank you for today.”

Stiles stares at the money but takes it, “You’re welcome. Despite the drama it was nice seeing your family today, even Peter.”

Derek cracks a smile. Just as Stiles is about to leave the car, Derek says, “Your dad’s not home.”

Stiles gives him a funny look because that’s a weird observation to make, “And?”

Derek glances at the moon, his eyes looking more blue than usual, “Just promise me you’ll stay inside tonight.”

Derek’s order makes him want to do the exact opposite but he’s tired and he doesn’t feel like arguing, “Whatever.”

Derek grabs his arm, his face intense, the anxiety practically pouring off of his body, “ _Stiles._ ”

Stiles shrinks back and opens the car door, “Fine, I’ll stay inside, geez.”

Derek seems momentarily appeased and releases his arm, the darkness of the night casting shadows across his face, making him look dangerous and beautiful.

Before he can let that thought go any further he shuts the car door and walks to the front door, using his key to open it and waving at Derek, who is still staring at him from inside the car. He figures Derek won’t leave until he’s inside the house so he goes inside and peaks through the window. Derek stays for about a minute before he drives away, Stiles letting out a breath that he wasn’t aware he was holding in.

-

Stiles is in a deep sleep when he’s awoken by a whimpered howl, the sound making every hair on his body stand upright in attention. He opens his eyes, letting them adjust to the darkness before he throws the blankets off of him. The howling gets louder as does the sound of his quickening pulse, the adrenaline pumping through his veins making him more alert.

He slowly makes his way to the window, the sight before him making his blood run cold. A giant black wolf is sitting in his yard, dark red eyes staring straight through him. Sweat gathers at the base of his neck when the wolf tilts its head and bares its teeth, as if it knows he’s afraid and is taunting him for it.

It gives one last ear shattering howl before disappearing into the woods. Stiles is so mesmerized by what just happened that he doesn’t realize his phone is vibrating until he sees the flashing light. He grabs for the phone, almost dropping it from his shaking hands. **_Scott_** blinks across the screen.

He presses answer, “Scott?”

There’s silence on the other end of the phone. “Scott?” Stiles asks again, his state of panic rising at the dead line.

“Stiles! Guess what?” Scott’s happy go lucky voice asks him. Stiles breathes out a sigh of relief and sits on his bed, rubbing at his tired eyes.

“This better be good since it’s,” he glances at the clock on his bed side table, “two in the morning.”

“Oh, it is.” Scott answers back. Stiles can practically taste the excitement exuding from him. Stiles rolls his eyes and says, “What is it?”

“Guess who’s officially dating Allison?”

Stiles can’t help the groan that comes out of his mouth because seriously? Scott thought it was necessary to call him in the middle of the night to tell him that?

“Is it Greenberg?”

He can hear Scott scoff on the other end of the line, “It’s me!”

Stiles lies back on his bed and closes his eyes, sleep starting to take over. “That’s awesome, Scott.”

The knock on his window scares him shitless for the second time in a row and he yelps, dropping his phone and glaring when he sees Scott’s amused grin. Stiles yanks open the window and feels the sudden urge to push him off the ledge. “What the fuck? I have a front door you know.”

Scott ignores him and paces the room, “I’m also only half a virgin now.”

“Half a virgin?”

Scott nods and plops down onto his bed, “Yeah, we were about to have sex but her dad came home so I snuck out of her window and came here. I told my mom I was sleeping over.”

Stiles isn’t about to ask for any details, instead he gestures to the floor, “You can sleep here.”

Scott widens his eyes, pushing out his bottom lip to complete his signature puppy dog look, “Come on, dude.”

Stiles can’t resist his friend and relents, “At least take a shower first.”

Scott grins, “Deal.”

-

Stiles is downstairs getting a glass of water while Scott is in the shower when he hears the howling again. He almost drops the glass of water to the floor and for some unknown reason, feels the urge to go outside and investigate. He sets the cup onto the kitchen table, puts on his shoes and runs to the back door, opening it and searching the backyard frantically. There’s no sign of the wolf, it’s as if he imagined the sound. He shuts the door behind him and slowly walks into the woods; the only sound he hears is the crunching of dirt under his feet.

He gets hit with several branches, the pain bringing him more awareness to his surroundings. He continues on, not exactly sure what he’s searching for at this point. Several minutes passes when he hears a noise behind him. He whips around but sees nothing, his heart beating out of his chest.

He swallows heavily and turns back around, walking forward until he hears the sound again. He looks back one more time and is met with red eyes. His fight or flight mode takes over and he runs with everything he has. He ignores the pain in his ankle when he trips and hurries to get back up, continuing to run for what seems like hours but can only be minutes.

He hears something behind him and tries to run faster but strong arms wrap around his chest, his back pressing into something warm and firm. He opens his mouth to scream but a large hand cover his mouth, stifling the sound. He’s on the verge of a panic attack when a familiar voice whispers in his ear, “It’s okay. Calm down.”

Derek’s deep voice settles his anxiety, his body already relaxing when he realizes he’s not about to be torn to shreds. Derek releases his mouth and pushes him up against a tree, the rough bark bringing a shooting pain down his spine. Derek seems pissed off, a look that’s all too familiar to him.

“I told you to stay inside. Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Derek asks, his chest vibrating with the force of his growl.

Stiles shudders at the intensity of it all and says, “No! I saw a wolf.”

Derek growls once again, his face unkind, “So you thought you should go outside and get your throat torn out.”

Well when he puts it that way…

“Look, I don’t know what I was thinking, okay?”

Derek searches his face, his eyes flickering down to the scratches over his bare chest from the sharp branches. He touches the wound with his fingertips, the contact bringing forth an involuntary shiver from Stiles. Derek snaps his eyes back up to Stiles’ face and his lips part, his breath coming out in little spurts.

Derek looks down at Stiles’ lips, his eyes darkening and inches forward. Their lips almost touch when a vibrating sound breaks the moment, Derek scowling as he takes his phone out of his pocket. Stiles can see a flashing **K** on the screen before Derek hits decline and pulls away.

“Let’s get you home.”

-

Derek knows his way surprisingly well around the woods, getting them to Stiles’ house in less than ten minutes. Luckily they didn’t run into any wolves on the way back. Scott looks panicked but when he catches sight of Stiles he runs towards them, “Dude! I was about two seconds away from calling your dad.”

Stiles scratches his head sheepishly, “Sorry about that.”

Scott seems to finally notice Derek’s presence and narrows his eyes, “Did he hurt you?”

It’s times like this that Stiles is grateful that Scott is his best friend.

“No, he didn’t.” Stiles licks his lips and stands beside Scott when he addresses Derek, “thanks for getting me home.”

Derek nods curtly, looking between Scott and him before he walks back into the woods.

“What the hell was that about?” Scott asks him, a questioning look on his face.

Stiles can’t answer him because he has no idea.

-

Stiles is already awake when his alarm goes off, the events of the night running through his head over and over again. Scott’s snoring didn’t help his restlessness either. Scott groans from beside him and elbows Stiles in the face, mumbling Allison’s name. Stiles figures he better get up before he sees exactly how much Scott is enjoying his dream and goes to the bathroom to pee. He goes through the motions of brushing his teeth and taking a shower before he grabs a pillow and smacks Scott with it to wake him up.

“Rise and shine!” he says, but Scott doesn’t budge.

Stiles sighs, knowing exactly what will wake his friend, “Allison’s waiting downstairs.”

Scott immediately flails out of the bed, landing on his side and wincing, “Don’t let her see me like this.”

He runs straight for the bathroom and slams the door behind him. Stiles watches with amusement when Scott comes bursting out and twirls around in a circle, “Do I look okay?”

Stiles tries to hold back his grin but fails. Scott looks at him suspiciously before his face drops, “She’s not really here, is she?”

“Sorry, buddy.”

Scott grumbles under his breath and sulkily stomps down the stairs, flipping Stiles off on his way down.

-

Stiles can’t help but search for Derek’s black Camaro when he pulls into the school’s parking lot. He doesn’t see it and finds himself disappointed by the fact. Scott spots Allison who’s chatting with Lydia and looks at Stiles hopefully before Stiles waves him off. He practically skips out of the car and hugs Allison, lifting her from the ground while they make out.

Stiles turns away and finds that he’s not the only one watching. Peter is in front of his jeep, a wicked smile in place. He walks around the Jeep and gets into the passenger side, having no qualms about not having an invitation to do so.

He looks at the dark circles under Stiles’ eyes from the lack of sleep and asks, “How was your night?”

He knows something. Stiles is sure of it.

“Tell me everything,” Stiles says, no room for argument in his tone.

Peter just grins.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drama, anyone? Also how did everyone like the Teen Wolf premiere? :)


	6. Tomato Soup

“Do you know what tonight is, Stiles?” Peter asks him, his stare so intense that it’s as if he’s trying to read Stiles’ every thought with a single look. He really hopes Peter isn’t a mind reader because Stiles is a horny teenager and about eighty-five percent of his thoughts revolve around sex.

Stiles tries to remember if there’s anything important planned for the day, but his mind comes up blank. It’s a Thursday, or is it Friday? He doesn’t even know his days of the week so how is he supposed to solve Peter’s trivial little riddles? He shakes his head in frustration and groans pitifully, “I don’t know. I think the premiere of the 100 is on.”

Peter’s expression remains the same except for the slight eye roll he gives, indicating his disappointment in Stiles’ answer, but honestly what did he expect? It’s not as if Stiles is in the best condition to think clearly after last night. Between the creepy wolf who acted surprisingly human and Derek who acted even more strange than usual, he’s lucky Stiles is able to form comprehensible sentences.

He continues to look at Stiles, raising an eyebrow to convey that he expects a much better answer than Stiles previously gave him and Stiles tightens his grip around the steering wheel. He closes his eyes and racks his brain for any resemblance of a correct answer to Peter’s specifications but he can’t think of a single thing, though there might be a lacrosse game tonight but Stiles isn’t entirely sure.

At this point he still has no answers and all Peter has managed to do is cause him to have an aching migraine to go with his shitty mood. Stiles is at his breaking point and he can’t help the amount of desperation and malice that creeps in his voice as he says, “I’m not in the mood for your bullshit games. Tell me what the hell is going on.”

Instead of being offended at Stiles’ quick temperament, Peter drops the act and just laughs cheekily, leaning back in the seat to make himself more comfortable. “Oh, Stiles. You really should work on your patience. It’s a coveted quality to have.”

The bell rings, interrupting his reply and signaling the start of Stiles’ personal day of hell, especially since he didn’t do any of his required reading or homework as of late. He grabs the handle of the door, startling when Peter grabs his wrist and forces Stiles to listen to what he has to say.

“It’s a full moon tonight. If you want your answers, come to the Hale residence this evening,” Peter’s usual playful manner is completely gone and in its place is a somberness that Stiles has never seen from him before. Stiles’ heart skips a beat when Peter’s nails dig a little too harshly into the skin of his wrist and his eyes widen when he realizes that Peter drew blood.

Peter releases his painful hold on Stiles’ arm and clicks his tongue. “It’s a shame that humans are so delicate. If only there was something we could do about that,” the wicked gleam in his eye alerts Stiles’ gut instinct that sounds the alarm to get as far away from Peter as possible, but before he can move an inch, Peter is gone in a flash. The only remaining evidence of his presence is the tiny wolf figurine that he left behind on the dashboard.

-

“Why do you smell like Peter? And what happened to your arm?” Derek corners him just as he stuffs the wolf figurine into his locker. His eyes flash yellow and his nostrils flare but when Stiles blinks his eyes are green again. Weird. Stiles tries not to be offended at Derek’s obvious disgust at his scent because he knows he at least smells better than Greenberg.

Stiles sniffs at his shirt around the armpit area but all he can smell is his own familiar scent mixed with sweat and he frowns. “Are you on steroids or something?”

Derek gives him a disbelieving look and he leans against the locker with his left forearm as he closes in on Stiles’ personal space. Stiles takes in Derek’s appearance and thinks that it’s not such a ridiculous question to ask. The grey Henley that Derek is wearing molds around his bulging muscles and his jeans show just how sculpted his body truly is. Stiles averts his eyes when he feels his own jeans begin to tighten and he backs away when Derek once again sniffs the air around him.

“Can you stop with the sniffing, please? It’s creepy.”

Derek inhales one last time and smirks at him, his eyes narrowing as he looks Stiles up and down. “You’re turned on.”

Stiles looks down to make sure he’s not hard at school because if he gets arrested by his father for popping a boner in the school hallway, he’ll never live it down. Thankfully there’s no physical evidence of his arousal. He looks up and scowls when Derek smiles widely because Stiles played right into his hand.

Stiles really doesn’t want to make a big deal out of the situation and besides, he supposed to be angry with Derek for lying to him. He decides to feign nonchalance and stiffens his shoulders in denial, “No I’m not.”

He hopes that Derek can’t detect how his heart races and his palms sweat when he lies but with the way Derek is looking at him, he doesn’t succeed.

Derek’s pupils dilate as he leans in and parts his lips. He’s so close that Stiles can feel his eyelashes brush against his cheek as he closes his eyes, his breath hot against his neck as he says, “Yes you are. Just admit it.”

His throat feels tight all of a sudden and his breath quickens but before he can reply, Ms. Argent smacks the locker nearest to them and startles them enough to break the thickening tension. She takes in their closeness and gives Stiles a considering look, tilting her head to the side before she moves her gaze to Derek, “I’m not interrupting something, am I?”

“No,” Stiles says immediately but she isn’t satisfied with his response.

Her question is meant for both of them but somehow it seems as though she’s mostly asking Derek. Derek’s entire demeanor has changed since her arrival and Stiles can’t help but notice the way his body stiffens when she leans in too close and says, “Good. You wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea about you two. Right, Der?”

She saunters across the hall to the classroom and calls over her shoulder, “I hope you boys did the reading.”

When she disappears inside of her classroom, Stiles throws an accusatory look his way, “Please tell me you’re not sleeping with our English teacher because that’s not the way to get an A.”

Stiles isn’t dense and he would have to be legally blind to not notice the meaningful look she gave to Derek, as if she was staking her claim. Now all of the times she offered to help Derek after school and the way she would brush her hand across his shoulder as she walks by makes sense to Stiles.

Derek watches his reaction carefully as he says, “I’m not sleeping with her.”

Stiles chuckles humorlessly and he bites his lip as he nods. “You mean not yet.”

Derek growls and takes his hand. “Not ever. She just wants me to pass her class. She’s harmless.”

“She seemed a little too friendly for me to believe that.”

Derek drops Stiles’ hand and rubs at his forehead in exasperation. “Believe what you want Stiles. I don’t feel like arguing with you. Especially not today.”

Stiles double takes and mulls over Derek’s words, but before he can ask, Derek is gone.

-

Derek is already in his seat when Stiles enters English class and he stares at Stiles, nervously playing with his pen. Stiles takes a deep breath and plops down into the seat next to him, placing the wolf figurine on Derek’s desk in plain sight. Derek inhales sharply at its presence and he grabs the wolf, clenching it tightly in the palm of his hand.

“Where did you get this?” Derek bites out.

Stiles assesses Derek’s reaction and notes the way his body seems to be thrumming with angry, nervous energy. His eyes continuously flicker between the clock on the wall and Stiles and the tendons in his neck are more prominent than usual, as if he’s restraining himself. Stiles hears Ms. Argent begin her lecture so he brings their desks closer and lowers his voice as to not catch her wrath. “The better question is why your uncle gave me a wolf figurine the day after a wolf howled outside of my fucking window?”

Derek glowers at him and stuffs the wolf in the open pocket of his backpack. He doesn’t answer him and instead fixes his gaze forward, turning his body away from Stiles and staring blankly ahead. Now Derek wants to give him the silent treatment? He’s so hot and cold that he’s practically a Katy Perry song.

“Do you illegally own wolves or something? If that’s your big secret I swear I won’t call animal control on you.”

Derek remains blank faced and Stiles is so focused on getting Derek to acknowledge him that he doesn’t notice how the classroom suddenly becomes deadly silent. Derek clears his throat and nods slightly ahead, alerting Stiles to Ms. Argent’s hard gaze.

Stiles turns his head slowly and looks around the room. Every single person is staring unabashedly at him except for the few students who are trying to be inconspicuous as they text from under their desk.

“Stiles,” Ms. Argent says, grinning at him in faux sweetness, “Please summarize chapter ten for the class.”

Stiles’ mouth dries at her request and he licks his lips, scratching at the base of his neck and cursing that stupid wolf for taking up so much of his time and energy. He’s usually a perfect student, he even does the assigned reading ahead of time but for the first time in his life, he can’t bring himself to care. It’s obvious why Ms. Argent is picking on him and he has half a mind to report her to his father, but she hasn’t done anything wrong according to Derek. Yet.

“I didn’t read chapter ten.”

Ms. Argent sits on her desk and crosses her legs, her eyes growing excited at his budding discomfort. “Maybe you should focus more on your school work and less on drooling over boys who aren’t interested.”

Several of the students gasp while others chuckle around him and Stiles smiles back at her just as sweetly. “I could say the same for you.”

Her expression tightens and her smile immediately drops at his accusation. “You just earned yourself a detention.”

“Whatever you say, Mrs. Robinson.”

“Or we could make that a week’s worth of detention. Your choice.”

Stiles holds back another scathing remark and Derek sits up in his seat, raising his chin up in a challenging matter. “Or you could quit being a bitch.”

Ms. Argent uncrosses her legs and saunters up to Derek, her skirt showing a sliver of thigh with every step she takes. Derek meets her gaze head on, even as she leans down and whispers in his ear. Stiles can’t hear what she’s saying but just like the rest of the class, their interaction has his rapt attention. Derek clenches his jaw and his throat moves as he swallows at whatever it is she has to say. She finally straightens and announces loudly, “I expect to see you and Mr. Stilinski in the library after school for detention.”

“Damn! You lucky dogs!”

Stiles rolls his eyes at Greenberg’s commentary while Ms. Argent laughs and says, “You’re welcome to join. It’s going to be very interesting.”

The salacious grin that accompanies her last statement lets Stiles know that he should he afraid.

-

When Stiles walks into the library he doesn’t expect to see Lydia, Scott and Jackson. Greenberg is sitting in the corner making his own concoction of tomato soup consisting of water and ketchup packets but that doesn’t surprise Stiles in the slightest. There isn’t any sign of Derek but Ms. Argent is standing in the front of the room wearing a smug face.

He ignores her and sits at the desk with Scott and Lydia, pushing his bag underneath his chair. Scott is pouting and Lydia is drawing in her notebook, ignoring his existence as per usual. Scott smiles at him weakly and asks, “What are you in for?”

“I called her out on her underage boy kink,” he gestures towards Ms. Argent.

Scott whips his head back in confusion and stares at Ms. Argent in wonder. “Allison’s aunt was hitting on you?”

“Not me. Derek.”

Scott’s eyes widen when Lydia speaks up, not stopping her drawing as she says, “She’s been trying to sleep with Derek for weeks. It’s old news.”

It’s at that moment that Derek walks in, but his face is pale and covered in sweat. Stiles watches as he takes the seat next to Jackson and lays his head into his folded arms. Jackson looks worried and he hesitantly rubs at Derek’s back but Derek pulls away from his touch. Stiles feels his body grow hot at the zap of anxiety he gets from Derek’s troubled state. Determined to get Derek some much needed help, he sets his shoulders and stalks up to Ms. Argent. “He needs to see a doctor.”

Ms. Agent simply shrugs. “He’ll be fine, sweetie.”

Stiles blanches at her nonchalance because it’s apparent that Derek is not fine in the least bit and he wonders idly if Satan is the one hiring teachers at this school.

Ms. Argent motions for him to go back to his seat and he gives her a look of disgust before reluctantly doing so. If anything happens to Derek he will make it his life’s mission to get her fired.

“You can leave once all of these books,” she points towards the hundreds of books piled haphazardly in a pile on the floor, “are in their correct spot. I would cancel any plans you had for tonight, you’ll be here awhile.”

“Where are you going?” Lydia asks her pointedly.

She turns and pauses at the door, “I have better things to do with my time than babysit a bunch of teenagers.”

With that being said, she leaves and Stiles thinks he hears the door lock behind her. He tests his theory by jiggling the door handle and frowning when it refuses to budge. “She locked us in.”

“Are you fucking serious? I can’t believe I’m stuck here with you freaks,” Jackson groans and eyes Greenberg who is oblivious to everything going on around him while he drinks his “tomato soup”.

“Isn’t it illegal or something for her to do that?” Scott asks and tries to pull the door open, but it’s useless without a key.

Derek’s breathing becomes labored and he clenches the table tightly before a piece of it breaks off in his hand. Stiles was right, he’s definitely on steroids and by the looks of it, his body isn’t too happy with that fact.

Stiles practically runs to Derek and puts the back of his hand against Derek’s forehead. He’s burning up and his hair is damp with sweat. With his previous anger towards Derek completely forgotten, he grabs his bag and looks around for his phone and some Tylenol. He attempts to open the bottle, but his hands are shaking so hard that he can’t get it open.

Jackson rolls his eyes and snatches the bottle from his hands and says sarcastically, “I’m not surprised you can’t open anything child proof.”

Stiles resents that statement.

He opens it within a couple of seconds and hands the pills to Derek, who swallows them dry. Derek mutters out thanks to Jackson who smiles evilly at Stiles, as if he won the competition to be Derek’s best friend.

Several minutes pass and Derek seems to be doing marginally better. His coloring is a little more normal and his breaths have slowed down considerably. Stiles wets his lacrosse shirt with some cold water and presses it to Derek’s head, who smiles weakly at him with appreciation.

“Did you eat the mystery lasagna in the cafeteria? I could’ve warned you what a bad idea that was.”

Derek laughs before wincing and says, “Something like that.”

“You know guys, we should probably get to work on these books,” Greenberg says.

“Shut up,” they all say in unison.

“We really need to get you out of here, Derek. You know what tonight is.” Jackson says and gives him a meaningful look.

Derek looks out the window and swallows before moving his gaze to Stiles. “Yeah.”

“What’s tonight?” Stiles asks, in hopes that Jackson won’t keep his big mouth shut for once in his life.

Jackson regards him grimly, “If we don’t get him out of here soon, you’ll find out.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's going on with Derek? Thoughts?
> 
> btw a creepy guy used to make that "soup" and I had to keep myself from gagging when he drank it. Ugh.


	7. Roid Rage

“Wait. You know Derek’s big secret and I don’t?” Stiles asks in disbelief, his earlier anger igniting from the knowledge that Derek trusted Jackson, Jackass Jackson of all people with his deep, dark secret over Stiles who he’s known his entire life.

“Aw, are your feelings hurt?” Jackson asks mockingly, his eyes light up with glee as he smirks at Stiles’ distressed state.

Stiles’ jaw tightens and he narrows his eyes, dropping his gaze to Jackson’s crossed arms that accentuate his toned biceps. A thought crosses Stiles’ mind from the sight. Maybe Jackson is the one supplying Derek with the steroids and that’s why Jackson knows his secret. Stiles begrudgingly admits that Jackson has a pretty good body, Stiles would even say he’s attractive, but his shit personality ruins any possible attraction that Stiles would even remotely have.

“Nope. By the way, you might want to lay off the roids. It’s obvious your balls are shrinking based on the fact that you’ve been overcompensating more than usual,” Stiles snarls and when Jackson’s eyes widen and his face turns red, Stiles laughs outright.

“I’m not on steroids, dumbass!”

“Prove it,” Stiles replies, tilting his head expectantly.

Greenberg makes his way towards Jackson, his face set in determination as he reaches for his crotch. “I’ll check!”

Jackson shoves Greenberg so hard that he knocks over a bookcase, adding about two more hours to their job and the room echoes in resounding sighs of despair. Derek groans out painfully and Stiles and Jackson automatically reach for him, their arms touching for a moment before they glower at one another and jolt back. Derek looks terrible, his skin is pale, his lips are colorless and the purpled bags under his eyes are making him look years older.

“I’m calling my dad!” Stiles announces, his fingers shaky as he manages to dial the first number before Jackson smacks it out of his hand, the phone hitting the floor and cracking the screen.

“What the fuck is your problem? Do you want Derek to die?” Stiles shouts angrily, touching noses with Jackson as his entire body shakes with pent up adrenaline.

Jackson is about to reply when Derek’s voice, small and weak calls out pitifully, “Call Cora. No one else.”

Jackson nods sharply and takes out his own phone, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he waves his phone around frantically. “I’m not getting a signal.”

“Neither am I,” Lydia says confused, her face set in a frown.

Scott repeats the same sentiment, eyeing Derek worriedly before he goes back to pulling and shoving at the door. Jackson rushes over to help him, kicking the door with all of his strength and that’s when Stiles knows the situation is serious.

“Stiles,” Derek whimpers, his hand reaching out to him.

Stiles squeezes his hand, his eyes roaming over Derek’s weakened state. He’s never seen Derek so vulnerable before, he’s usually so guarded, so untouchable. This Derek is someone else and that terrifies Stiles because it’s bringing back past feelings that Stiles vowed he would never let himself feel ever again.

“What?” Stiles whispers, his mouth cottony and his throat tight.

“Get out of here,” Derek winces and doubles over, holding his stomach as he hisses out, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“No offense but I don’t think you could hurt a fly at this point,” Stiles says gently, Derek’s trembling form and his sweat slicked skin making his words ring true.

Derek’s eyes squeeze shut tightly before they snap open, the irises of his eyes golden honey. His voice comes out in a low growl, his teeth elongated and pointed, his face transforming into something not human. His nails look fake and acrylic and if Stiles wasn’t absolutely terrified for his life he would make a joke out of it. He drops Derek’s hand instantly.

When Derek bares his teeth, Stiles falls flat on his ass, his mind racing and his heart pounding with fear as he tries to comprehend why Derek is suddenly turning into a fucking wolf.

“Leave!” Derek growls, his voice low and threatening.

He doesn’t have to tell Stiles twice. Stiles runs into Scott who looks as equally confused and terrified as Stiles is and they both turn to look at the others. Lydia is just staring at Derek, her face seeming to be otherwise blank except for her eyes that are shining and wide. Greenberg isn’t even paying attention; he’s stacking books on top of one another and humming Rihanna’s latest song to himself. Jackson on the other hand looks as if he expected Derek to transform into what Stiles assumed existed only in fantasy novels.

“Calm down, Derek,” Jackson states calmly, his hands up in a non threatening manner. He’s stepping towards Derek slowly, his movements cautious and calculated as he assesses Derek’s reaction.

Derek is practically hyperventilating at this point and he narrows his eyes at Jackson, his body trembling as he struggles to control himself. Derek lifts himself out of the chair, his eyes entirely focused on Stiles, his chest rumbling as he looks at Stiles as if he’s his prey.

Stiles swallows heavily and the pit in his stomach deepens when Jackson starts backing away from Derek. “What’s wrong with him?” Scott asks, stepping closer to Stiles for comfort.

Derek growls at their close contact and Stiles backs away from Scott pointedly.

“Are you really this stupid, McCall? He’s a werewolf and since tonight’s the full moon he’s not in control of himself,” Jackson replies dryly, as if the answer is obvious.

Well, Stiles was completely wrong. At this point he would have been happy to be right about the steroids because then Derek wouldn’t be on the verge of attacking them. Derek’s the big, bad wolf in this scenario and Stiles is apparently little red. He’s even wearing his favorite red shirt today.

“If you guys want the door open I can pick the lock. It’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it,” Greenberg muses, taking some tools out of his bag.

Lydia turns to glare at Greenberg, his announcement breaking her frozen posture. “If you don’t unlock that door in 2.5 seconds I will rip your throat out myself.”

“Okay, okay,” Greenberg says, fumbling with the lock before he opens the door smoothly.

It doesn’t take long for Lydia, Greenberg, Scott and Jackson to evacuate the room. Stiles, however is frozen in place, his eyes mesmerized by the sight of Derek before him. If someone had told Stiles that Derek, his former best friend turned mortal enemy, would suddenly start acting nice towards him then turn into a fucking werewolf after being put in detention by an evil succubus than he would have laughed in their face.

“Stiles, run, please,” Derek says, his eyes pleading as he backs away, his hands clenching as blood drips from his fingers onto the floor from his nails digging into the skin of his palms.

“Why couldn’t you just tell me?” Stiles whispers, his gaze roaming over Derek’s face.

Derek’s eyes harden and he stalks over to Stiles, crowding him against the nearest wall and placing his hands beside Stiles’ head. His eyes flicker from Stiles’ lips to his eyes, making the hair at the back of Stiles’ neck stand.

“Can’t you just listen for once in your life? Do you want me to kill you?”

Stiles shakes his head before he raises his arm up slow and deliberate, Derek flinching as Stiles runs the pads of his fingers down the side of his face. Stiles wanders over every sharp ridge of his cheekbones and jaw, his finger shaking as he examines Derek’s wolf side. Derek shudders under his touch and closes his eyes, letting out a shaky breath before his eyes snap open and he growls.

“Get away from me,” He shoves away from Stiles and in the blink of an eye, he’s gone.

Greenberg walks in, glancing at Stiles sheepishly as he grabs his cup. “Forgot my soup. By the way, your werewolf boyfriend’s kind of a dick.”

Stiles doesn’t know what to say to that, especially since Greenberg is acting like his fellow classmate transforming into a werewolf is an ordinary everyday occurrence at Beacon Hills High, though to his credit it might be. Stiles doesn’t fucking know. Maybe Greenberg is really a unicorn. That would explain his whole brony thing.

“Stiles?” Scott’s panicked voice calls out, interrupting his thoughts as he runs into the room and grabs Stiles’ hand, “We need to leave. Now.”

Stiles nods as he follows blindly, his mind entirely numb. He doesn’t know what to think at this point, hell, he doesn’t even know if he’s dreaming or hallucinating or if he accidentally ate one of Danny’s special brownies by accident.

The hallway is eerily quiet, the passing hours since the bell rang leaving the school empty and desolate. The hallways are dark, the only light available is the dimming sunlight peeking through the windows. A shrill, tortured howl fills the silence and Stiles flinches from the sound, its pitch so loud that it sounds as if Derek’s only a few feet away. At least he hopes that it’s Derek, but he can’t be the only werewolf in town. And if Derek is a werewolf then his family has to be too…

A resounding howl responds and gunshots echo in the halls shortly after. Scott and Stiles duck into the nearest classroom, slamming the door shut with their hearts beating out of their chests. Stiles can’t help but worry about Derek and wonder who exactly is shooting and at what or who.

“First werewolves and now gunshots. If I die half a virgin I’m going to be pissed,” Scott mutters to himself.

“At least you’re half a virgin. I’m a full virgin.”

A single beep alerts them to the new text message on Scott’s phone, his forehead wrinkling as he reads the text aloud. “It’s from Allison. She’s at the school,” Scott says, his voice wavering slightly.

“Wait here, I’m gonna go get her,” Scott says, already reaching for the door handle. Stiles grips his arm tightly to stop him from leaving, his voice harsh and desperate, “Have you learned nothing from our horror film marathons? Never split up. If you leave me, you’re basically sending me to my death bed and I’m too young and pretty to die just yet.”

Scott has the audacity to roll his eyes, removing Stiles’ death grip from his forearm. “You’ll be fine if you stay here.”

“What about you?”

“I’ve played Call of Duty before. I know what I’m doing,” Scott says, as if that’s a reasonable explanation to their current situation, and with that he leaves Stiles all alone.

“Bros before hoes, Scott!” Stiles can’t help but yell after him.

-

A half hour has passed and though he hasn’t heard any more gun shots, Scott isn’t answering any of Stiles’ text messages. His stomach churns and his skin crawls as he works up the courage to leave the safety of the room and venture out into the unknown.

He turns the knob hesitantly; the screeching noise of protest the door creates making him wince when it opens slowly. He takes a deep breath and pops his head out, his eyes scanning the halls for any signs of life. When he finds none, he breathes out, half in relief and half disappointment.

With his ears buzzing and his heart in his throat, Stiles makes his escape, keeping one hand against the wall, the cool feeling against the palm of his hand contrasting with the heat radiating from his body. The posters plastered against the wall that tell him to have a good day and don’t worry be happy seem to be mocking him, the urge to tear them from the wall and rip them into tiny pieces growing with each passing second. That’s why when Derek runs into him, completely human, shirtless and covered in blood with deep scratches across his abdomen that Stiles barely registers it. Derek’s eyes are wide with panic, dark with desperation as he scoops Stiles up into his arms like a ragdoll and bolts. Stiles can’t do anything but tighten his hold around Derek’s neck, letting out a squeak of surprise when Derek leads them into the school basement and locks the door roughly behind them.

“What?” Stiles begins to say, but Derek slaps his palm over Stiles’ mouth, giving him a look that says _shut up._ Stiles gets the message loud and clear, swallowing around Derek’s palm, his warm breath feeling claustrophobic around his face.

Derek’s eyes are closed, his head tilting as he listens for sounds that Stiles can’t hear with his own ears before releasing Stiles’ mouth. Stiles remains silent this time, his face conveying his horror and utter exhaustion from the past hour. The hard edges of Derek’s mouth soften in response and he takes a step back, his eyes lowering, as if he expects Stiles to berate him and Stiles wants to, but not for the reasons Derek expects.

Stiles takes a step forward, Derek’s wounds momentarily distracting him. Derek looks up, their eyes locking and Stiles’ breath catches in his throat, the vulnerable look reflecting in Derek’s eyes something he hasn’t seen in years.

Stiles notices that Derek’s wounds aren’t as severe as they previously were, the broken edges of skin flattening into red scars before his eyes. “What happened?” Stiles asks, his voice hoarse, sounding like the first word to come out of his mouth in years.

“An Alpha. The same one that was outside your window the other night,” Derek says, his voice hesitant and unsure.

Stiles’ hands itch to examine Derek’s wounds but he curls his hands into fists instead, his posture stiff. “Why?”

“Because you smell like pack and,” Derek starts, but Stiles cuts him off harshly.

“No. Why?” Stiles asks, the implication in his question weighing heavily in the air around them and Derek’s shoulders bunch up, his walls immediately going back up.

Derek remains silent, his features smoothing into a blank expression, his eyes void of any emotion. That’s the last straw for Stiles; he’s fucking done with the back and forth, with the mind games.

“Fuck you,” Stiles spits out, “I’d rather get torn apart out there than spend another moment with you,” he turns to leave but Derek’s hand catches his wrist, tugging his body close until their foreheads knock together and their chests touch, breaths mingling together.

“I’m sorry,” Derek whispers, licking at his dry lips, “I’m sorry.”

Derek’s lips brush against his cheek, “I’m sorry for everything.”

Stiles moves his face to the left, their lips faintly touching, his bottom lip quivering, Derek’s eyes questioning as he searches Stiles’ face, and when Derek moves forward, pushing his lips harder against Stiles’, his mouth parting slightly, Stiles melts against him.

Something snaps inside of Stiles and he cups the back of Derek’s neck to pull him closer, their lips desperately seeking one another. Stiles uses his free hand to trace the hot flesh of Derek’s chest, Derek shivering when Stiles’ finger glides across his nipple. His hand continues the journey downward, feeling the taut planes of his abdomen and digging his fingers into the skin of his hip.

Derek deepens the kiss, his tongue tracing every inch of Stiles’ mouth as he ruts their hips together. Derek is the first to pull away, their breaths labored as they inhale a lungful of much needed air. “Stiles,” Derek says, low and throaty but Stiles stops him with a rough kiss.

“Shut up,” Stiles growls out, pouring all of his pent up frustration into his movements, vibrating with desire and anger all mixed in one. His nails scratching up Derek’s skin, leaving red marks in their wake, his teeth nipping at Derek’s kiss swollen lips. Derek pulls away, his eyes dilated and glassy before he mouths at Stiles’ throbbing pulse point, sucking the delicate flesh. Stiles lets out a throaty moan, sliding his hands through the soft strands of Derek’s hair, tugging every so often.

A loud bang on the door stills their movements, Derek’s eyes flashing briefly as he tenses before he relaxes slightly and rolls his eyes. He reluctantly releases Stiles and coughs, avoiding eye contact with Stiles as he unlocks the door. Cora is crouched slightly, her posture readying for a fight but her eyes are amused. “Sorry for the cock block,” she eyes Derek’s bloodied midsection and raises an eyebrow, “I assume he knows.”

Derek nods stiffly and brushes past Cora, not bothering to give Stiles a second glance. Stiles doesn’t really mind because he’s not ready for their awkward post make out slash thigh humping conversation.

“Are you a werewolf too?” Stiles asks, voice monotone.

Cora watches him carefully, probably waiting for Stiles to have a mental breakdown. “Afraid so.”

“Right. I’m going home now and hopefully when I wake up this will all be some twisted nightmare.”

Cora’s features turn sympathetic, “Don’t worry about the Alpha. We’ll have someone watching you.”

Though Cora means it to sound comforting, it only makes Stiles feel worse.

 


End file.
